The Death of Clark Kent
by temporaryinsanity91
Summary: Lois Lane writes about the part of Superman very few people knew. BvS Spoilers. JL Spoilers. T for language.
1. Prologue: In His Memory

**so this will be short, only like five chapters or less. I have to get this off my chest lol. this movie has me all kinds of fucked up and it's been months since it first came out. but I hope everybody likes it.**

 **~temporary insanity**

* * *

 **PROLOGUE: In His Memory**

Sitting at her desk, her fingertips frozen over the keyboard, her mind filled with everything and nothing at the same time, her whole world seemed frozen, like the night outside.

"Go home, Lois."

She shook her head. "I'm... I'm almost done."

Perry White, her boss, editor, and friend, arched an eyebrow as his hand landed on the edge of her cubicle, his arm bending at the elbow as he leaned on it. "Are you? Are you _really?"_ He nodded at her computer where the word processor had three words and a blinking cursor.

She glared at the keyboard. "Yes."

He sighed. "Lois, you and I have known each other a long time. I supported you when you did that story that caused a class action law suit against the pharmaceutical factory here in Metropolis. I supported you when you went boots on the ground with the first division. I _know_ that you didn't want to just write those stories, you wanted to live them. Clark was no different, was he?"

She swallowed, her soft, strawberry blonde waves falling into her face as she hung her head in defeat. "He was more than just a story. He was more than... he was more than anybody could have imagined."

"Nevertheless, you found a way not just to write about him, but to be in his life and in his story."

"No. He... he became the most important part of mine." She gave into her tears. "What do I do now?" she whispered.

Perry let his hand rest on her shoulder, squeezing it. "What you do best, Lois. Tell it. Tell your story."

That thought followed her for two days, plaguing her dreams and nightmares, swirling in her tea, screeching in the train's wheels on her way to work, where it blinked at her from the same word document with three words and a tiny black line.

| _what_

| _next_

| _what_

| _next_

She was tired. She just wanted him to come home with flowers and dinner again. _"I was gonna cook dinner—surprise you."_

" _I don't care what they're saying."_ His face that day had changed from happy to see her to severe in an instant. His expression was always a window for his emotions. _"I didn't kill those men if that's what they think."_

" _I just don't know if it's possible for you to love me and be you."_

He hadn't answered her. All the things he said to defend himself to her, he never said to the world. Maybe it was because her opinion was the only one that mattered to him—well, besides his mother's. He had a way of answering those questions without saying anything at all. When they were together, just Lois and Clark, sipping wine and talking about their stories, his recent travels and her recent adventures, he always looked at her and smiled with this expression of love and indulgence, like everything she said was special and important, even if it was something as stupid as 'the line at Starbucks was ridiculous' or something.

When she got indignant about her most recent bickering session with Perry, he'd sit on the floor and watch her pace as she read her piece to him and explained to him why this was her _best_ work yet and she had _no_ clue why Perry wanted her to include something, or take something out, or edit it down to only half a page. His lovingly indulgent blue eyes also held amusement then as they followed her movement back and forth, blocking his way of the television. And then, when she finally ran out of steam, he'd simply stand up, take her paper from her hands, and replace it with a glass of her favorite wine. Then he'd pull her in for an embrace and kiss the top of her head, and she knew that was his way of saying that she'd figure out what Perry meant tomorrow.

She usually did. He was balm for her insecurities that way. And when she got it right, he'd look at her with pride in his eyes, and a tiny smile would pull at one side of his face as he shook his head, the only indication he gave that he always heard their arguments even though Perry's door was always closed, and knew that Perry gave in with a sigh and grudgingly agreed to print her article.

She sat up straight.

 _Her article. Her article about Superman... the one she Woodburned._ She'd gone all over the United States and all over the planet to find out about him, about how he'd worked, about what drove him. She understood the depth of his loneliness as she interviewed all the people he'd saved, people he'd had to run from. She understood that he felt his uniqueness very keenly, which he perceived as lack of humanity. While she was on a quest to find out about the man that saved her life, he was on a quest to figure out why he was never like the people he ended up rescuing.

Now she was going to go around the world again to understand something else... the depth of his selflessness. She stood and walked into Perry's office without knocking. "I'm going to do an in depth look into the life of Superman."

He looked up. "What?"

"I'm going to find and talked to the people he interacts with as Superman. And I'm going to find out where he goes to be alone."

Perry sighed. "You mean, where he went."

Lois's throat tightened. "Where he went."

"And naturally, you want me to fund this."

"Of course."

"You know that you can find news and video archives of almost any incident with him involved. Here in the Planet, even. You don't have to go anywhere."

"Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't about the fact that he saved them—he saved all of us! No. This is about who he is to them. Because three days ago, he was someone everyone had to be afraid of, someone whose integrity needed to be questioned and now... now if there's a single doubt still that he would do anything for us stupid, _stubborn_ humans, it needs to be put to rest. It needs to be put to rest so that he can be."

"Lois, this story is already everywhere."

"But no one can tell it like I can."

Perry thought about what she was asking. She was asking to tell her story as well as his. He understood that she wanted to memorialize him... grieve for him but also help the world understand what he was, and what he was like. But everyone had their ideals about him as a god, as a savior, as a soldier... as someone who was never really one of them. But no one except his family and those in the Planet knew what he was like as a man.

"Fine. You're going to write his story in two parts. What he was like as a person; Clark Kent, the one we all know here. Feel free to pull any and all of us aside, talk to his child hood friends, whatever you want. You will also write about his endeavors as Superman. You will be given a travel budget for this assignment. You can start after the funeral services."

Lois smiled a shaky smile. "Thank you."

At night she drew herself a bath, carefully adjusting the temperature and adding the soaps, salts and oils she normally did, watching the bubbles turn white. She always found it interesting that the pure white froth floated above the water. She knew scientifically, it just had to do with the fact that air was trapped in them and there was no chance that air would stay under the water, it would always free itself from its depth and rise up.

She hiccuped as more tears came. He was never going to stay here. He was always going to rise up. He was air to this planet. Fresh, unpolluted air.

She slipped her clothes off. Her shirt, skirt, tights, and panties making a pool around her feet. Her bra was last. She slipped it off and stepped carefully into the full tub, letting the warmth work its way through her skin, into her muscles, into her bones. It made her shiver. She shut her eyes and leaned back, her mind sinking into the warmth around her, and the warmth of her memory.

" _Clark—you're going to flood the apartment."_

" _Uh huh." His boyish grin and mischievous eyes were only distracting for about two seconds before he peeled his shirt off, and his chest and defined abdomen came into view to distract her instead._

 _She was all giggles as he splashed into the tub with her, jeans and all. His glasses tumbled somewhere, but if he didn't care, she didn't either. It wasn't like he needed them, anyway. His tongue found that spot on her neck, and her giggles cut to gasps and soft moans as he loved her._

 _It took two hours to clean up the bathroom. And he'd ruined his shoes. He hadn't cared, though. He'd just shrugged and sighed in relief that he wasn't sloshing around in them anymore. They made dinner together that night, laughing and spraying each other with the sink water, and feeding each other taste tests while he told her about growing up on the farm. He made her turn the news off, a frown pulling his eyebrows toward each other and making his clear blue eyes cloud with something she realized later was pain._

She opened her eyes, and tears immediately made their escape. The whole 'is he our enemy or not' saga had cut him more deeply than the abominate monster that had taken his life. The thing that stung the most about his death was that he died thinking the entire planet blamed _him._

The truth was that his instincts were always right, and that LexCorp had used that to turn the world against him and eventually kill him. She wasn't sure which of the two was more cruel.

Pulling herself out of the bath, she set about draining the tub and finishing her shower, quickly rinsing off suds and washing her hair.

He'd blamed himself for the bombing at the Capitol Building when the truth was very different. She'd seen how the light in his eyes was dull, snuffed out by what the media was saying. _"I'm afraid I didn't see it because I wasn't looking."_

" _No one stays good in this world, Lo."_

It broke her heart that he didn't know that he did. He stayed good until the bitter end. But her opinion wasn't the only one that mattered after all.

* * *

The wake was hard. Perry had flown her and the whole team to Clark's hometown of Smallville, Kansas. The town had made navy and red, and black and gray S symbol flags, and alternated them with American ones all the way down Main Street. Outside the town, trees were decorated with ribbon, and the funeral home was full but quiet as friends and loved ones their goodbyes to the Man of Steel.

Martha was kind to her from the start. When they first met, neither woman had any idea Lois and Clark would fall in love. Martha was leery of her, to be honest. She didn't want to talk to her at first, but Lois was pretty good at presenting herself a certain way, a way that made her seem friendly, and not the enemy. Also, maybe Martha saw some of her own curiosity in her questions, and maybe drew her own conclusions about the impact her son had on the younger woman's life.

Then, Clark asked her to come to Kansas with him. For thanksgiving. She was completely shocked at first, but they became friends over the last two years. Now, Martha looked at her and wept. She let her own tears fall as she neared the viewing area where Clark lay, his hands folded calmly over his stomach, his eyes gently closed. He looked like he was asleep.

She was up a million times it seemed like, just watching his muscular chest rise and fall, watching his calm face as he rested. Most times, she ended up using one of his arms as a pillow, and throwing a leg or something over him. He never shifted; his arm never fell asleep, he didn't ask her to move because he was uncomfortable. He probably never even noticed. But she felt how safe he felt in her bed, in her home. He always rested so easily, smiled so effortlessly...

She choked a sob. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered, leaning down to his peaceful, still face. "You were always good, Kal. I'm going to make sure they never say anything different. I promise." She entwined her fingers with his and gave a gentle squeeze. And just like when he was asleep, even though he never noticed, she swore she felt the tiniest squeeze back.

She watched them close the casket after the viewing, and something inside her cracked. It was a permanent fault line in her chest now, that ached always since she thought of him always. She hoped over time she'd be able to think of him without pain, but for now, she was drowning in the waves of it until she was strangely numb.

The funeral was long and short at the same time. She was not anticipating being only one of two people who could speak for his personality in detail. She was both dreading and waiting for the moment when she could tell everyone in attendance about the good times, his smile, their stupid fights, their life together. The way he started talking about the future with hope—as long as she was at his side. The ring his mother gave her the day before. _"I wear you on my chest,"_ he told her once, two months before the day in the desert. _"You are hope to me."_

But she never wanted the moment to come when they lowered him into the ground forever. Alas, it came, and she watched them lower him down. There was a feeling of helplessness that ripped her apart. She felt it when She stayed hours after everyone was gone, her body and mind numb as she stared at the simple wooden box.

"You were my world too," she said to the empty space in front of her. "You were hope to me. You will always be."

With a final handful of dirt, she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked alone to the rental car at the end of the long path out of the graveyard. She was going to get to work now. She was going to make sure his memory was the brightest spot in human history.

" _You're digging up snakes, Lo. It's kind of dangerous, don't you think?"_

" _That's why I didn't tell you," she sighed. His look of disapproval said everything he wasn't able to say out loud, as Perry interrupted with something about a plane to catch._

 _She rushed to log out of her computer and head home to pack some essentials, but he grabbed her hand. "I love you," he said quietly. "Please, be safe."_

 _His worry for her made her relent. "I love you too. I promise I'll call you."_

 _His lips quirked up in that tiny, amused smile. "I know."_

 _She kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger against the smooth skin of his cheek. He responded by squeezing her hand and turning back to his desk where Perry was waiting. The way he walked told her he'd be paying very careful attention to what was happening in DC._

That wasn't the first time they'd argued about an assignment of hers. She was always rushing off to somewhere, and more than once, his eyebrows had furrowed as she explained to him what her newest adventure would be. He'd tell her it was dangerous, and she'd smile and say she'd be fine. He always sighed and gave her that small, patient smile. He knew she liked her independence, that she liked to live each story and adventure with her own senses. He knew he didn't have a say in her assignments—he was mostly reminding her not to be reckless. She admitted that since she was extremely confident in his ability, she'd gotten quite a bit more reckless in her endeavors, but when she got home safely, he was always waiting for her with some special detail. A flower on her desk at work, a note on the fridge, a romantic night.

More than once, his expression as he showed up and glared at the bad guys also included a glare for her that read, "I told you so." But he never said it out loud. When she got home because he brought her home after something dangerous, he always gave her that patient smile, checking her over to make sure she was okay, before taking off again. She managed to thank him once, and he just grinned, his eyebrow arching just a tiny bit. "Try not to thank me, Lo." Then, with a peck on her lips, he was off again.

Over the two years since he'd become Superman, she found that he enjoyed it. He'd liked honing his powers, using them to save people from death. She always asked him about everywhere he went, and the people he saved. He always said, "I couldn't let them die, Lo." When she asked why, he said, "I know I'm just one person—I know that there are millions of people in trouble all the time. But every person I can help is someone who is loved as much as I love you. And if I were just some guy, I would want Superman to save you every time. So I will try."

Lucky for her, Clark wasn't just some guy. He was the Man of Steel. But even he doubted himself. "Maybe it's just an exercise in futility. Maybe I won't always save everyone. How can I? But I can't stop doing this. This is my home now, and I... I have to help somehow."

She deleted the three words on the word document, and began to write.

 _Clark Kent: The Man in Superman_


	2. Perry White

**Perry White**

 _At work, it was easy, because we were friends. We bounced ideas off each other, we bickered about stories, and he always raised an eyebrow when I asked for an assignment that could get particularly dangerous. His stories were full of thought and grounded, and his work ethic was impeccable, as was his treatment of those around him. The Daily Planet was one of the few places Clark Kent was ever comfortable in his own skin. It's strange to say that considering he was gone frequently. Our editor would mutter about where he went all the time, and I'd shake my head and say, "I don't know." But I'd see him on the news and I'd smile. He wanted it that way, and he was lucky. There are few people in the world that truly get what they want._

She had already made up her mind that she'd interview Perry first, so she slipped into his office and closed the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. He sighed too. "You need to get some rest, Lois. I know this is important for you, but please... don't let it consume you."

"I... I'm trying. I'm trying to rest. But I just keep... _remembering..._ "

Perry sighed. "I remember too, you know. I remember every time I talked to him, or about him, and didn't know. I remember the things I said, and how mad I got when he was gone. My mind was on headlines in Metropolis, and his was on saving the world."

Lois looked down. "I know what you mean."

"It's why I was so frustrated with him with the Gotham City Football story. I didn't understand why he wanted to cover the Gotham City crime story. But of course, he was absolutely convinced that there was more to it than that."

"He was right, though, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I know that now."

"Well, it's too late now." There was a short silence, and she sat down across from his desk. "What do you remember the most about him?"

Perry smiled, staring out the window at the view of the city. "His interview. His resume read like every journalist's wet dream. He'd traveled all over the world, working odd jobs and learning about the locals until he packed up and moved along."

"Learning about the people he was sent here to save..."

"Something like that, I guess. But I remember thinking that the way this mind worked was different than anyone I had ever met. He seemed so reserved and spacey that I didn't know what to make of him at first. But when he spoke, he was calm and to the point. Honest, with no words wasted. He answered everything directly but thoughtfully, and he solved the trickier questions I asked so easily. I told him that journalism is equal parts finding the truth, and presenting it as attractively as possible. He looked right at me, and then out the door at your desk, and then nodded." Lois smiled. "Now I understand why. Of course he knew you. You knew Superman, he _was_ Superman—obvious."

Now Lois breathed a laugh. "Um, yeah. Letting on that we knew each other beforehand would have been, um... bad for his cover."

"But the glasses were genius though."

"He looked good in them. He looked... human. I guess."

"Harmless nerd turns out to be the most powerful man on the planet—literally. Now there's a headline."

Lois grinned. "Isn't that usually the case with nerds, though?"

Perry rolled his eyes. "What else do you want to ask me, Lane?"

"Tell me more about his interview. I never even knew you were hiring until you brought him in that day."

Perry nodded. "He asked for the interview. I had no plans to hire him. Really, I was looking for ways to make it so he wouldn't want the job."

"For all the good it did."

"His persistence was what changed my mind. He was like you that way; never backed down, never took any answer as a straight one, or as the one he wanted to hear. He was... he was a good reporter. And he was that way because he was an even better person."

Sitting at home, replaying her interview with Perry on her voice recording app, and reviewing her notes, she smiled even as tears fell down her face. Clark had been frustrated more than once over work, too especially in the beginning. He didn't like feeling like he let Perry down. After a few weeks of just general ordering and yelling on Perry's behalf, Clark's stress was mostly gone as he realized that was just Perry's style. That was when he really flourished, because that was when he started pushing back, demanding answers and finding solutions on his own instead of giving in to whatever the editor said.

Whenever she saw them speak alone, though, Clark showed nothing but quiet respect and a learning attitude, learning from his mistakes and pushing himself to move forward, do better. He wasn't the type that did his work based on the vibes he got. He just put his head down and didn't come up until he had something usable to present.

" _Clark—aren't we having dinner tonight?"_

 _He frowned. "Oh. Umm—yeah." He pulled a hand through his hair. "Can you give me twenty minutes?"_

 _Lois arched an eyebrow. "Ten."_

" _Lo—"_

" _Uh uh. This is the fourth time this week you stay late working on this assignment. Why won't you let yourself take a break? Fresh eyes help, you know?"_

 _He sighed, but he smiled. He looked tired. "Okay. Give me a second to sign out of here, and then I'll take you to Petrou's."_

 _She rested her hip on his desk and leaned down to kiss him. The office was dark, illuminated only by desk lamps of other overachievers and the city lights and sunset that spilled through the windows. In this light, his features were accented and his eyes were dark, ocean blue. She stared at his handsome face a moment, frowning at what she saw there. "You didn't do anything wrong," she told him. "I'm happy you're so committed to these assignments. And I know Perry is pleased to see you working so hard. Don't... let him get under your skin. Okay?"_

" _Okay." He met her eyes and smiled. "I'm still taking you to Petrou's."_

 _She laughed. "we're not dressed for Petrou's."_

 _He rolled his eyes, leaning up to kiss her again. "You should know better than to underestimate me by now."_

 _The next morning he walked in to the office with a small smile and sat down at his desk. Perry walked over to him, his eyes shooting lasers at him. "You look pretty happy for someone with no leads on your story."_

 _Clark looked over at her desk and then smiled up at Perry. "I have fresh eyes today, Mr. White."_

 _Perry tilted his head and watched him for a moment. "Good," he finally said._


	3. Jenny Jurwich

**Jenny Jurwich**

Jenny didn't know that he was Superman. He always seemed so... _normal._ He was nothing but professional and helpful. Friendly, but low key and quiet. When Lois asked to talk to her about him, she was stunned.

"It surprises you that much?" The two women walked slowly through what was left of Heroes Park. It was still dusty and ruined, but the destroyed monuments were covered in flowers, candles, and stuffed animals, as well as posters, and tee shirts with his logo, and a million other things.

"I mean... yeah. I mean, I don't even... he was the most normal guy out of everyone here."

Lois had to laugh at that. Eventually, Jenny did too.

They sat down at a bench overlooking what should have been a pond or small lake. "Will you tell me about when you met him?"

Jenny shifted. "When I first met him, really met him, I was in the cafeteria trying to pay for my lunch while juggling my tray and laptop bag."

"I can already tell that wasn't going well."

"Nope. And of course Lombard was busy chasing down interns trying to see if anybody would go to the game with him." She rolled her eyes. "I hadn't even noticed the two twenty dollar bills that slipped from my grasp while I grappled with my wallet, credit card, and multitude of other things I had in my hands, until he gently took the tray from my hands and relieved me of my laptop. I'd looked up at him and thanked him, still stressed, and frankly kind of startled because I didn't even see or hear him come up to me. He'd slipped the money that fell in between my drink and the plate, but I didn't even notice that he'd done it until after I sat down. He sat across from me, nursing a bottle of water, a cup of fruit, and a sandwich that he brought from home. I offered him chips from my bag, and he accepted with a smile.

"We sat in relative quiet, since he didn't talk much. But he wasn't a jerk either—he was just... you know. Probably thinking about his first assignments. And you," Jenny added with a playful wink and a gentle nudge with her shoulder.

Lois smiled. "Maybe."

She remembered last year when Valentine's Day rolled around, their first together, but sadly, on a Thursday. Clark had been especially attentive with her all week, and she smiled as she recalled the several details she found herself smiling about that week. A note in her mailbox, a chocolate on her desk, the box of cupcakes he brought to her place for desert. He was good at those things.

Jenny, on the other hand, was morose and honestly rather bitchy all week, as whatever situation she had going on in her personal life was making that week bitterly miserable for her.

When Valentine's Day finally came, Lois arrived at work to find a large, elaborate flower arrangement on her desk and a small, secret smile on his lips. The card on the flowers read, ' _I'm at my best when I'm with you. -Kal_ ' and she held it to her chest for a moment. Later, she'd pulled him aside and thanked him properly, presenting him with her own gift for Valentine's Day. But she'd seen Jenny's expression of sadness.

Later, she'd heard Jenny gasp and smile. On her desk was a tiny vase with one white and one yellow rose, and a box of chocolates. Curious, Lois leaned nosily over Jenny's shoulder as she read the note: " _Just letting you know that you are loved and appreciated by all of us. -your friends at the Daily Planet._ "

Yes, Clark had always been good at observing the needs of others. It was part of what made him the hero that he was.

* * *

 **Hey, all. Thanks for reviewing, following, etc. just to clarify, since a few of you commented, I don't actually know if the BVS movie makes it clear whether or not the Daily Planet gang know about Clark being the Man of Steel. There are shots of them all at his funeral, but there's also a quick shot of an article about him in the Planet next to the article about Lex Luthor being arrested. So... maybe they know?**

 **For the sake of this story, they all find out once he's dead.**

 **Thanks for reading :)**

 **~temporary insanity**


	4. Martha Kent

**Martha Kent**

"Hello darling," she says, her voice low and raspy. Lois takes in the appearance of the woman that would have been her mother-in-law. She is a beautiful woman, someone she knew caught attention in her day, and probably would catch attention now if she wanted it. But as she studies the woman in front of her, her bright brown eyes sunken into dark-rimmed sockets, face too thin, and color too pale, she remembers that this woman has lost more than she can ever imagine.

After losing her husband and her only son, it's like she has nothing left to live for. Not even Dusty, who stands behind her at the door barking and growling. Martha turns to him and sends him away. He turns with his ears down and a disgruntled growl and scurries into the living room. She opens the screen door then, inviting her in.

The house is different now. New appliances and furniture, and a new layout for the first floor make the house seem spacious but simultaneously cozy. The old farmhouse had an update to the outside also, as recently as two weeks ago thanks to the same anonymous donor that funded Clark's funeral. Whoever that was had a vested interest in taking care of Martha.

They sit in silence for a while on the couch, neither knowing how to start the conversation. "I miss him," Lois finally said.

Martha's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile, but her eyes didn't hold any happiness at all. "I'm sure that, wherever he is, he misses you as well."

Lois nodded, her throat tight. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Martha shook her head. "I don't blame you," she said immediately. "I don't see how anyone could."

"I tried to stop him," she whispered, her vision blurring for a second as tears filled her eyes before dripping down her cheeks.

"So did his father for many years. It never stopped Clark from doing what he thought was right."

"He told me," Lois nodded. "He was—in the end, he was heartbroken. He felt like his father's dream for him was smoke, like he'd failed him and couldn't hold up the expectations that his father had. It weighed on him. After the bombing in the Capital..." Lois swallowed.

Martha sighed. "He called me, you know."

Lois giggled. "He always called you."

Martha chuckled too. "To talk about you," she retorted.

It was true. Clark called home frequently, several times a week even, to check on his mother.

 _One day, she walked into her apartment to find him on his cellphone, pacing back and forth as he listened, still dressed in his Superman cape and suit._

 _The red fabric twirled dramatically every time he turned, and there was a frown of concentration between his eyebrows. "Did you get the counter fixed?" His blue eyes narrowed for a moment before he sighed. "Should I call Felix then? I'm going to. No, Mom, he won't mind. He wants to help you. I'm calling him and you better not cancel this week again." This time, his sigh was of relief. He turned again, pacing with his back toward her, and when he turned again, she could see that his face had lit up in a smile. "Yeah, Mom. Things are going great. She's..." He laughed. "Yes, still a friend. She's important. She is... she is the one, Mom."_

 _Her chest felt like it was going to explode. They were eleven months into the relationship, and she'd loved him more every day. He was it for her, too. She felt the truth of that sink into her bones, into her lungs, into her chest. It made her full and heavy, but at the same time, light as air._

 _He paused both his speech and his pacing. "I know. Yes, I will bring her if that's what she wants." He resumed his pacing. "No, Mom. She already loves you." He laughed. "No, you were just trying to protect me. She understands that. Actually, she told me that she likes how much fire you had that day. Yes, we spoke after. I met her visiting dad. I told her how he died and why I didn't want her to report about it. You know that in the end she chose to keep my identity a secret, even though the FBI came for her. Yeah. But..." he paused, his pace halting again. "She hid it because she cares about me, and I think that whatever you told her influenced that opinion of me a lot. So thank you." He laughed. "Yes, it's your fault then, you have no one to blame but yourself." He sighed, but it was a happy one. "I love you mom. Take care of yourself, okay?" With a nod, he hung up._

"How are you really, Martha?" Lois whispers.

Martha shrugged, her whole posture sad and defeated. "I don't sleep much. I keep dreaming... about that man that took me. He is the reason my son is..." She swallowed. "It is hard sometimes. There is this person that keeps helping with things... there was something wrong with the basement and water kept getting in, and all of a sudden, there were people here to fix it. They said it was all taken care of. If it is him, I don't want his _money._ It is blood money he used to kill my son."

Lois shook her head. "No, I... I met him. Lex Luthor? The person that created that monster and kidnapped us both, he—well, let's just say, he's not the type to pay for your plumbing."

Martha nodded, seeming relieved. "I never dreamed that he would be the one... in the beginning, actually ever since he was a baby, I was always afraid. I always knew that someday, something otherworldly would take him away. At first it was him. He struggled as a baby, you know? Even breathing was hard. I was afraid that his... otherworldly nature made him doomed from the start. But he grew, and he got strong. Too strong. Jonathan thought it was best for him to hide it—but, you remember what I said about trying to stop him. I was afraid that people would come for him and take him away because of his abilities. He got older, and he wanted to know about where he came from, and... I didn't want him to do that, not because he didn't deserve to know, but because if he found them, I was afraid that they would come for him."

Lois thought about that. "You were right," she said after a long silence. "General Zod came for him when he found out about his true origins."

"But General Zod wasn't what took my boy away."

Lois swallowed, tears stinging her eyes again. "No. No, he wasn't."

* * *

 **thanks for reading. my apologies for the long delay followed by a short chapter. I watched Man of Steel and started getting all kinds of ideas again. I think I'll extend this story into a bunch of shorts like what you all have seen so far, until I run out of people for Lois to talk to, and then we'll see the conclusion of her article, as seen through the eyes of someone special.**

 **cheers**

 **-temporary insanity.**


	5. Epilogue: Bruce Wayne

**Boy, Justice League changed everything, didn't it? I knew it would, that was part of the reason I was putting this off. There are so many plot ideas that can come out of MoS and BvS before we just... run out. Ending this is hard. But I am way too excited about Justice League so watching it was my number one priority this last weekend and now I am glad I did.**

 **Cue perfect segue, this is an official Justice League *sirens blare* SPOILER ALERT *red flashing lights everywhere*. If you haven't seen that yet and you're not understanding the deal with Superman right now (for some reason), please stay calm. There are lights along the ground to guide you to the exits.**

 **Still here? Tell me, did you bleed? Just kidding. How'd you like the movie? Hey, who do you think won that race? I'll take your bets in the reviews below. I'll probably write something fluffy about Lois and Superman soon, because I love them as a couple in this universe and also Henry Cavill is... *drools***

 **anyways. I apologize in advance for any typos or errors. I am typing this with wet nails and I don't have a beta reader! Super smart, right? Also, things got kind of wonky and i had to rework the last section... i'm not a hundred percent happy with it so suggestions are welcome. Thanks for coming back around for the last round. Catch you on the flip!**

 **~daisy**

* * *

 **Epilogue: Bruce Wayne**

Making himself useful to Superman's family had become kind of difficult. Not because he couldn't afford it... but because the guilt grew as the numbers of the Kent Family dwindled. At some point, his people told him that Martha Kent left her home, and they hadn't seen her since. Foreclosure, they said. She'd moved her things into storage and taken off.

He'd been furious. Foreclosure?! How did they miss that she was behind on that mortgage? How did she still even have one?! Between Jonathan Kent's life insurance, Clark Kent's support, and the side jobs she'd been doing, that should have been paid off long ago.

This was one thing he could fix. A woman who lost her entire family should not have to lose her home too—not if he could help it. Thankfully, like he'd pointed out once, his super power was money, and he would use that in this case to make sure Martha Kent was set for the duration of her existence. It didn't matter what it ended up costing him, monetarily or otherwise. He just had to find her.

Maybe it was less difficult than he was making it. Maybe he just needed the ability to rally when his mind went to dark places. Clark Kent seemed to have that in spades. That guy was not a quitter.

He was nothing at all now. Just dead.

 _It's your fault,_ he though to himself. _Always your fault._ He fell asleep that night wishing there was more that he could do.

" _You're... letting him... kill... Martha..."_

When he woke up, hands were slick. In his post-sleep confusion, he panicked because he thought that that hot dampness on his palms was blood. The thought sobered his mood the rest of the morning.

He showered and he tried to wash that creepy feeling of blood away, but instead he felt like he was bathing in it. Skin crawling, he toweled off and dressed in black boxer briefs and a black beater, his hands shaking.

He knew that Superman had tried to warn him, now. As he went over that fight over and over in his mind, he knew that if he'd taken just a moment to hear him out he would have known that it was all just a set up from a sick, demented man that wanted them to literally kill each other. And when that hadn't done the job, then that... _thing..._ had.

God, what in the hell was that? Thankfully Superman had been around long enough to prove that not all alien life forms were out for destruction.

He gave a low, self-depricating chuckle as he ran the thought through his mind again, which caused Alfred to look up from the coffee he was pouring. "What is funny, Master Wayne?"

"I used to think he was part of the problem," Bruce said after a long silence. "I used to be afraid of what he could do."

"You were not wrong in that fear."

"Yes, I was. The problem wasn't him. The problem was people like Lex Luthor. People like the man that gunned my family down in the street. Those people are what that abomination was really made of."

Alfred was silent for a moment. "How could you have known that he wasn't one of those?"

"Because he tried to talk to me. He didn't fight me until I attacked. He tried to tell me what the real problem was. I just didn't listen. I _refused_ to listen! And now..." He growled in frustration, holding his head in his hands for a moment. "I didn't listen when you told me to slow down. I didn't listen when you said that this wasn't what it seemed. You tried to warn me a thousand times. Now he is dead and it is my fault. Who will save the world from monsters like that thing now?"

Alfred looked him thoughtfully. "I believe know the answer to that, Master Wayne."

Bruce tilted his head in thought before meeting his friend's eyes. "Yes... yes, I think I do."

* * *

He was impatient waiting in his office. He managed to put the waterboy's doubts out of his mind, although Diana's opinion was harder to ignore. They'd fought that monster together that day. They lost Superman together that day. She was his comrad in a way. He had more respect for her on any given day than he did for himself in the days after his death.

"Sir, your appointment has arrived."

He nodded, his stress returning tenfold, and tenfold again when he saw the redheaded reporter enter his office. At first glance she looked as put together as she did every other time he saw her around. But as she walked, he noted that her heels had a split second drag, as if she was suppressing the urge to shuffle. The memory of her bright eyes against the green glow of the spear he made of pure kryptonite filled his mind against his will. She looked less sad and afraid then.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Wayne."

"Thank you for coming, Miss Lane." He stood and shook her hand, motioning her to be seated like if this were any other meeting.

They both knew it wasn't.

She watched him for a moment, and then gave a lightless, knowing smile. "I know that you're the so-called Bat of Gotham. I know it was you the night Superman died."

Even though there was no subtext in her statement, Bruce heard, _I know you're the one that killed him._ He swallowed, unable to deny it, make up a cover story, or anything. After a long silence, he said, "How?"

Another lightless smile. "I did some research, Mr. Wayne. That bomb that got into the capitol building—that man did not know he was going to die. He was being targeted by LuthorCorp. He was being manipulated. After I realized what Luthor wanted to do I did some investigating of my own and found out that there were other black-marker projects that Luthor was heavily investing in. He was the one supplying the weapons that killed all those people—that day, it was _his_ fault. He had men there. That was meant to make the world hate Superman." She swallowed, and she took a moment to visibly collect herself. "The world and someone else—you. He had a big old black-marker dossier on you too, Mr. Wayne. That's how I found out who you are. Because _Lex Luthor_ knows. And... someone else did too." She gave a listless smile. "But he isn't who I'm here to ask you about."

Almost relieved, Bruce said, "You aren't here about Superman?" _Because I am_ , he thought to himself.

"I want to talk to you about a reporter you met. His name is—" she swallowed again, and this time she fought back tears. "His name was Clark Kent."

Bruce was thoughtful for just a moment. "What about him? He came all the way across the harbor just to get in my face about the Bat of Gotham."

Lois Lane's face went slack for one second before her eyes darkened. "He wasn't wrong, was he?"

Bruce recoiled. He'd known the blame was coming. He'd seen her grieve for Superman that night. They'd been best friends— lovers, soulmates.

His mind replayed the memory in his nightmare again, but he forced himself not to remember the horror of the nightmare and focused on the actual details. She had been yelling for Superman—but she was yelling his name. The name of Martha's son, the name of her own lover.

" _Clark!" she ran through the destroyed building, picking her way around the rubble with the clicking of her heels echoing like gunshots. "Stop!"_

" _Who is Martha?! How do you know that name?!"_

" _That's his mother's name!"_

He sat back. "You _are_ here about Superman after all," he said smugly.

"I—I just want you to tell me what you remember about Clark... about who he was."

He nodded, trying to keep his face impassive. "Why? Hasn't the Planet mourned the Superman sufficiently?"

"As a hero, sure. But as a person..."

This time, Bruce was nodding in understanding. "He was someone... special."

"Tell me," she whispered. "Please."

He watched the tears splash from her eyes, the pain that washed down her face drowning him. This was what swept away the last of Diana's objections. He knew he had to do this. Not just for her, or for Martha, but for everyone that had pain and fear washing over them in an unending tsunami because of his death.

He leaned forward, offering her a cloth to wipe her face with out of his shirt pocket. "Miss Lane... what if I told you I could bring him back?"

She sat there stunned for a moment, and then he watched the emotions as they made their appearance: first disbelief widened her eyes, then anger made her cheeks pink. then desperation welled up in her eyes, splashing down as her shoulders dropped. finally, hope settled on her features, and, with a hiccup, she looked up into his eyes. "What do I have to do?"

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 **aaand cut. It's a wrap! Catch ya in the end notes folks! Thanks for reading.**


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